Chapter 3 #2
“I need to bring you up to speed so you can take over.” Was he losing it in his old age? The man just said one thing, now . . .
“You must hurry, get married, and give me a grandchild. That way I can, on paper, sign over everything to that child, and you run the company by proxy through him or her until they come of age.”
Sighing heavily, I stood. “What about Lily?”
He grimaced. “You know Lily wants nothing to do with the company. She’s too busy finding herself or whatever at college. She has no business acumen, but you do. You always have.”
He wasn’t wrong. Lily would never set foot in the family business. She’d die before she took the reins.
“What do you think I am? A puppet? Next thing you’ll tell me is that you have the woman already picked out.”
There was a flicker in his eyes, and the shadow of a grin appeared at the corner of his mouth. Of course he already had somebody picked out. He’d always liked the idea of picking my bride. He joined me on my feet.
“You acted without thinking and got yourself locked in there, and now I’m telling you what that means. You want someone who isn’t a Fitzgerald to run this company?”
“I don’t care who—”
My father’s glare deepened. “Thaddeus, your mother and I worked hard; you won’t throw it away.”
The sly use of my mother quieted me. When I was a boy, she’d always boasted, “One day it will all be yours.” Nothing made her happier than seeing that I was set up for a full future.
‘Full’ in the rich parents’ sense, because I was never into cars, money, and, well, anything material. All I’d ever wanted was a happy life.
Look how that turned out.
Damn it. I sighed. “Fine.”
Carrying a smug smile, my father returned to his chair and leaned back. Something nagged at me. “Why didn’t you just knock up and marry the lady you’re passing the time with?”
He rifled through the papers on his desk. Without looking up, he said, “I’m too old to make another child.”
I shrugged. I’d always expected a man like my father to stay virile. The word made me cringe. I couldn’t resist asking my next question. “You getting married anytime soon?”
He chuckled coldly. “Hell no. That would make her entitled to half of my assets. You’ll get married and have a child ASAP.”
I sat. “Fine.”
“Also, one more thing. You need some good PR.”
My eyes bulged. “Me? I just got out of prison for murder. No amount of PR will make people have a favorable impression of me.”
He finally looked up. “You will win over everyone at this company and the public. Fitzgerald Inc. will be run by my own flesh and blood.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Sounds like you have a plan. What is it?”
“Summer Cohen.”
My jaw tightened, and a sharp breath slipped out as I stood. “You’re out of your fucking mind. If you think I’ll marry and have a child with that woman, you’ve lost it.”
“Calm down. I don’t want my grandbabies mixed in with the blood that killed their grandmother.”
My shoulders relaxed by a millimeter. Then what the hell did he want? I wanted nothing to do with that bitch. She’d betrayed me in the worst way. We could never be anything again.
My father pointed for me to sit. “All I’m saying is she’s the key to the public forgiving you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t care about their fucking forgiveness.”
My father raised a brow and drummed his fingers on the desk, annoyed.
“We just talked about why you have to do this. You have to win people over so no one challenges you running the company for your child. If people think Summer forgave you for what you did, nobody else will have any grounds to disagree with that.”
Just the image of her made my blood boil.
While I barely kept my rage under the surface, my father went on about some building that would collapse and kill all the occupants soon.
What I didn’t expect was for him to say that Summer and her coworkers must want to see them dead, since they insisted on leaving the people there to wait until the structure crumbled to the ground.
A meeting was scheduled to get together and come up with an amicable plan.
“What building is it?” I asked, hearing the note of resignation in my own voice.
“The Starlight building.”
“Oh,” I said.
His eyes flashed. “Will that be a problem for you? I know the building has its . . . memories for you and your mother, but business is business.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said through gritted teeth. If Summer wanted the building to remain, then I wanted it gone.
Before he finished, I knew exactly which of the Fitzgeralds would be representing the company in those meetings.
“The woman hates me? The feeling is mutual.”
“Neither of you has to like each other, but eventually, you both must forgive and move on.”
I screwed my face up. “I hate that damn word.” Made me think of forgive and forget. My mother used to champion that kind of hippie mentality. As if the world was a bubble filled with good-hearted people and endless chances.
Father scanned me, searching for a clue, so I explained. “Forgive.”
After that stressful visit with my father ended, I was shown into an office.
It was nothing fancy, just a desk and chair; the walls that allowed privacy were the only thing I’d celebrate.
I didn’t want to sit out there to be observed.
I spent an hour shaking the hands of various employees, many of whom were meeting me for the first time.
A few of them looked frightened. The ones who avoided eye contact took my hand with limp, trembling wrists.
Guess they’d never seen a cold-blooded murderer up close before.
Eventually, my father was satisfied, and I settled into my office to oversee my first project, saving Fitzgerald’s reputation while doing what was actually the best for these tenants.
Really, they loved that run-down building so much they wanted to crumble with it?
Summer championing something so stupid didn’t surprise me; she clearly lacked good judgment.
When the workday finally ended, I went to meet Henry, my best friend.
In the car, I drove away from the Fitzgerald building on the outskirts of the town and found my way back to the heart of Tarrytown.
The homes on each side of the street had their own individual styles, while remaining identical in size and layout to their neighbors.
The yards were well-kept, not that you could see much of them; Halloween decorations already filled their lawns.
I should’ve had Aston decorate the house.
I was back, and this was always my favorite holiday.
Not that I figured anybody would allow their children to go trick-or-treating at the door of a real-life monster.
I weaved through one street after another until I found Henry’s house.
I was out of the car before it hit me. I knew this street.
Henry had settled down and started a family since I was away, so I’d never visited him anywhere other than his childhood home.
This house had once belonged to Mr. Murphy.
I guessed the cranky old man had died. I shook, thinking I could never live there.
Frozen in the driveway, I tried to ignore the obvious.
Mr. Murphy lived on Summer’s street.
There it was. The house where I killed that bastard Clive.
The house where they took me away in handcuffs.
The house where, for one short moment, I debated if I’d done the right thing.
The doubt had lasted less than a second as soon as I pictured my mother’s smiling face.
Even over Summer’s sobbing, I was adamant Clive had to die. Summer and I be damned.
“Thad, you coming in or not?”
Instinctively, a smile filled my face. I was happy to finally see my main man without a plexiglass panel between us.
Henry had visited once a month for years.
He was the only damn one who meant it when he promised to stay in touch.
Not that I resented the others. They had lives, jobs, and new families.
It meant a lot to me, knowing that Henry had all those things, but that it made no difference. He still showed up.
“Of course,” I said. Not surprisingly, as I approached his front door, Henry rushed through it, lifted his arms, and pulled me into a hug.
The first person to hug me in years. Before our little bromance reunion got too mushy, I stepped back.
“Alright, where’s this wife and kid you managed to make while I was away?” I grinned.
“Inside, waiting to meet your ass,” Henry said, stepping aside so I could enter.
When I did, a chorus of voices rang out. “Welcome home, Thad!”
Shit! I looked around at all the faces I hadn’t seen in years, and a new one, with a smile. “You guys didn’t have to.” Warmth spread through my body, and I swallowed hard.
Felix, a friend of mine during high school, although I hadn’t seen him since they marched me off to serve my sentence, rushed forward first for a hug.
“We’re all happy you’re out,” Felix said, pushing a drink into my hand.
Quietly, I studied him and nodded. “Thanks for this, guys. You didn’t have to.”
“Screw that! The whole gang is back together,” Henry said and slapped my back.
A few eyes opened wide, clearly unsure about that, and I knew why. Summer was part of their gang. Maybe she wasn’t anymore . . .
We chatted, drank, and I finally met Ashley, Henry’s wife, and his seven year old son, Wylie.
Damn, for me, time stood still, and I’d been counting down the days to freedom, but Henry, who wasn’t even dating this woman when I got locked away, had an entire family.
My father was right, I needed to get on it.
“Thad, what are you gonna do?” Felix asked, as if we had exchanged letters or even a phone call in the past decade.
The room looked at me as Ashley set up the table for dinner.
“I’m back at Fitzgerald. Shit, my father wants me to take over soon.”
Henry, the corporate attorney who knew my felony charge should make that all but impossible, studied me, his eyes narrowed, and he seemed to debate saying something. “Can he do that?”
“He has a plan,” I answered.
Felix patted my shoulder. “I’m sure your old man will find a way.”
We were all seated around the dining table when the doorbell rang. Ashley ran toward the door. “Oh, great. Daisy and Summer must finally be here.”
The room went eerily silent. My stomach knotted.
I looked at Henry for an explanation, but he was chasing after his wife.
Guess he didn’t tell her who I went to jail for murdering.
And, likewise, Summer clearly hadn’t wasted any time talking about me.
If she had, Ashley would have known the dinner that she’d put so much effort into was over.
“Ashley, you didn’t,” Henry groaned, hurrying to grab her before she turned the knob.
The poor woman’s face screwed up in confusion. “What?”
“Why did you invite them?” Henry said in a hushed tone, obviously not wanting the two on the other side to overhear.
His wife’s lip parted slowly, and then she glanced from us to the door. “What?”
Just then, the doorbell rang, and Henry looked away from his wife at me.
I blew out a breath and lifted my shoulders. “Open it. I can be civilized, but I can’t speak for Summer.”
Poor Ashley looked even more confused. Henry sighed, clearly losing patience with the whole situation, and pulled the knob open. “Daisy, Summer—sorry, we were . . . well. Um, come in.”
They stepped a few feet into the house when Summer locked eyes with me. Beside her, the color drained from Daisy’s face. The woman didn’t even blink, just stared at me, then finally back at Summer.
“Shit!”